


Reprieve

by MapleMooseMuffin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, I wrote this between the hours of 4 and 8 am, In which I inadvertantly teach people how to study?, M/M, Prompted by gee-lil-shit, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMooseMuffin/pseuds/MapleMooseMuffin
Summary: In the midst of midterm hell week, Shiro shows Keith a better way to study.---Gee-lil-shit: "For the sheith prompts: What do you think about a College Au?"





	Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill that I never... got around to... filling... (I'm so sorry).  
> Un-beta'd because I wrote this at ungodly hours and also because my beta has a hell week (or month, it sounds like tbh) of their own to deal with. Good luck friendo!
> 
> Disclaimer: I know exactly zero things about physics, and my equation is probably wrong.  
> Enjoy~

          The mid-semester hell week that comes in the form of four midterms in as many days, each amounting to anywhere between 25% and 60% of his final grades, has Keith holing up in libraries and flooding his veins with far more caffeine than his Health and Wellness professor would really approve of. By Wednesday evening he’s stretched past the point of manic caffeine rush, and is simply in the awful, constant-crash-but-fully-conscious stage of desperation.

          He feels like a zombie while he sits cramming for the up coming physics exam, sipping an over-sweetened, half cold latte with all the resignation of a man on death row. He might as well be, if he doesn’t somehow memorize all these formulas, and the names of the men who invented them. Why knowing the names of dead scientists should have any bearing on his ability to accurately calculate trajectories is beyond him, and his frustration with the banality of it all makes it very difficult to focus. By the time his phone buzzes with an alarm reminder to eat dinner – Hunk’s idea – Keith’s more than ready to take a break.

           A cursory glance in the group chat says Lance is procrastinating at the dining hall, so Keith heads there. In his opinion, he can’t really afford the 45 minutes it’ll take to get and eat dinner, let alone the chance of distraction from a certain champion procrastinator, but he also can’t remember the last time he spoke out loud, so it’s probably a good idea to step away from the books for a bit.

           “You look like hell,” Lance notes, glancing up from his phone when Keith slides his messenger bag and then his tray onto the table. Keith grunts a non-answer and pulls out his seat. Lance sits up straight, pulling his legs down off of the chair beside him.

           “Seriously, dude, are you okay?”

           Keith settles down into the stiff plastic chair and sighs out “Midterms.” It’s enough of an answer for Lance.

           “Oof. You want me to buy you a cookie or something?”

           Keith shakes his head. “All I want is to be able to remember which formula does what, and which constants go where.” He spears a piece of pork and quickly realizes how hungry he is.

           Lance holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me, man. I’m in Poli-Sci for a reason. Maybe you should ask Shiro,” he says, lowering his hands with a nod.

           “Ask me what?” Shiro asks from behind Keith’s chair. Keith jumps in his seat, dropping his fork and flicking rice across the table. He throws a glance over his shoulder; Shiro stands there with an apologetic expression. His bag is slung over one shoulder, and Keith thinks he sees bags under his eyes, though it could just be the bad lighting in this corner of the dining hall. Besides that, Shiro seems free of any signs of midterm hell. Part of Keith resents him for it.

           “Keith is dying over physics,” Lance says. Shiro makes a sympathetic sound.

           “You have Montgomery, right?”

           Keith shrugs and nods. “Yeah, but she’s fine. It’s just a lot to memorize.”

           Shiro nods and pulls out the chair beside Keith’s. “I had her when I took that class. Whoever wrote that textbook was crazy.”

           “It’s just too much material,” Keith agrees. He picks his fork back up and scoops up some more rice. “How am I supposed to memorize all those names _and_ the equations? The math isn’t even the hard part – I can do calculations in my sleep.” He huffs out a frustrated sound and eats his rice.

           “Tch, jeez Keith, life must be _so_ hard for you,” Lance says with drama. “I can’t _imagine_ your pain, having to remember names!” He says it as though it’s scandalous, which irks Keith. He glares at Lance. “Do you know what I’d give to be able to do math in my sleep? Seriously, your big complaint is you have to remember _names_?”

           “Lance, leave him alone,” Shiro interrupts him. “Not everyone is as good at rote memory as you are.”

           Lance pauses but then backs off at that half scolding half compliment, subtly preening from the praise. He does look a little sorry, though, and sends Keith a guilty look, so Keith lets it go and keeps eating. Beside him, Shiro settles into the chair and opens his bag, pulling out a few books and his notes. His handwriting is a bit messy across the page, which makes Keith smile. It’s not what most people would expect from him, with is model student reputation, but it’s very Shiro.

           “How did you do it?” Keith asks after a few minutes. Shiro looks up from his notes, eyebrows raised in question, and Lance peers at them from over the top of his phone, where he’s been playing Everwing. Keith’s phone keeps buzzing with the notifications from it. “Memorize everything?” Keith clarifies.

           “Oh.” Shiro straightens from where he’s been bent over his notes. “I think I made flashcards, mostly.”

           “Flashcards?” Keith asks. Shiro frowns.

           “Have you… never used flashcards?”

           Keith slowly shakes his head. He vaguely remembers having some, in elementary school. Little colored cards with simple addition, 1+1=___. His dad used to flip through them with him, when he was maybe five.

           “They make ones for this kind of stuff?” he asks. Shiro stares at him for a long moment. Then he shifts in his chair.

           “No. Or, well, I guess they might, but…. You can make them yourself.”

           He starts flipping through his notebook and then tears out a blank page. “What ones are you stuck on?” he asks.

           Keith pulls over his bag and takes out his own notes, flipping to show Shiro where he’d been studying earlier.

           “I always forget how pretty your handwriting is,” Shiro mumbles. Keith shrugs and glances away. He can feel himself warming at the comment.

           “How do you usually study stuff?” Lance asks. Keith looks up to see him set aside his phone. Shiro starts ripping the sheet of paper into smaller pieces and the writing on them.

           “I just kind of write it over and over again, until I can do it without looking.”

           Lance winces. “That’s gotta kill your hand.”

           “Yeah, I kind of figured that was just how it works,” Keith says.

           “No wonder you look like you’re dying.” He sounds genuinely sympathetic, which makes Keith feel comforted, but also rather embarrassed. How was he supposed to know he was studying wrong this whole time?

           “Here,” Shiro says, and holds up a square of paper. On it he’s written "I = F Δt = ΔM. “What’s this one?”

           Keith frowns. He tries to remember which equations use F, but that’s several of them.

           “Is it…circular motion?”

           Shiro shakes his head and flips the paper over. “No, it’s momentum, impulse.” The back of the card has that written on it. “So since you got it wrong, we put it into the miss pile, here.” He sets the card down on the table, the holds up another.

           They run through Keith’s equations like this through the rest of dinner, Shiro sorting the little cards into two piles – hit and miss. After every round he shuffles the misses and they run through them again. By the time Keith’s finished his meal, nearly half the deck is in the hit pile.

           “You’ll still want to go back over those once or twice, later,” Shiro says, “just to make sure you’ve got it.”

           Keith nods. “That’s fine. This way is still faster. I feel like I’m actually making progress now.”

           Shiro grins. “That’s great! I’m glad I could help.” He holds up the next card, and Keith gets it right.

           “You’re on a roll,” Lance says. Keith smiles.

           “Alright, just two more for this round. Then I should grab dinner, before they close and kick us out.”

           It’s odd, because by Keith’s count, there should only be one left this round, and it’s the one Shiro holds up now. It leaves him stumped, so Shiro flips it to show him the answer, and then sets it in the miss pile.

           “Alright, last one,” Shiro says.

           Keith wracks his brain to try and figure out what one he’s forgotten. But Shiro doesn’t hold up another loose-leaf square. Instead he holds out a green rectangle with a time and date printed on it under his index finger, which obscures a line of text.

           “What’s this one?” Shiro asks.

           There’s mirth in his voice, but Keith can also see his ears are turning pink. Keith looks again at the paper, the time and date – this Saturday, at 8 – and then it clicks.

           “Is that a ticket?” he asks. Shiro grins.

           “Bingo.”

           He holds it out to Keith, who takes it and reads the text Shiro was hiding. It’s a ticket for the local cinema – specifically, for the new action movie Keith’s been waiting all semester to go see.

           “I figured, after all the exams, we could use a break,” Shiro says. He is definitely blushing. Keith feels himself blush as well. He clears his throat.

           “Yeah,” he says with a little nod. Shiro’s grin widens, but before he can say anything back, Lance lets out a high whistle.

           “That was _smooth_ , Shirogane!” he whoops.

          Shiro laughs and rubs at the back of his neck, and Keith can’t find it in himself to even feel annoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to college kids who have to learn how the hell to study -- this one's for you.  
> This one is also for those of you dying from midterms and finals. You can do it!
> 
> Help support my insomnia by throwing me more sheiths on my [tumblr](http://maple-moose-muffin.tumblr.com/).~


End file.
